The Black Chapel
© 2014 by Walter Reimer

Art by  whitearabmare

Part 21.


Halvrika thought that she and Trasta had gotten cleaned up and dressed so quickly that she was sure she’d ended up wearing the doe’s underwear. Clutching the map of the Duchy of Lem in her paw, the raccoon dashed after the elk as they ran for the council chamber.

Why do cervines move so bloody fast? she wondered as she panted.

Word had been sent ahead, and King Aroki and his brother were waiting for them. “So he’s been found?” Aroki demanded.

Halvrika nodded jerkily as she tried to catch her breath. “Ye . . . Yes, Your Majesty.” She took another breath, suppressed a sudden desire to yawn and added, “They assure me that he will be held until we get him.”

A clanking and a harsh, sneering laugh heralded the arrival of young Prince Meki, who took a seat near the Throne. He’d obviously heard what the young raccoon had said. He looked up at his father as Aroki said, “Trasta, you and the Adept here will ride out. Are the forces ready?”

Trasta nodded. “They are, Your Majesty,” she replied formally.

“You ride out tonight. Meki?”

His oldest fawn’s ears perked. “Sire?”

“Do you have any other information on Lem?”

“No, Sire, and it’s rather odd.”

The older buck’s brow creased. “Odd?”

“There’s been no response to the muster along the border. Not even a herald.” Meki glanced at Halvrika, and again she felt that he suspected her and Trasta. “Of course, if the Duke is being held in thrall by this Amb Tokarv – “

“That’s why there will be an Adept going along with your sister.” To Trasta he said, “Azos and Luli march at your side, Daughter,” and with a nod he dismissed them.

Halvrika bowed toward the Throne and turned to go. She had been packed to travel ever since the King had ordered a muster, and all she had to do was go to the Cloister and get it.

“Wait, Adept,” came a harsh voice accompanied by heavy hoofsteps and the clank of iron.

The raccoon turned and bowed as Prince Meki walked up to her. “Yes, Your Highness?”

He advanced on her like a juggernaut, and she felt herself backing up until she collided with a wall. Standing almost nose to nose with her he growled, “Don’t think that just because you’ve left my sight that I won’t be watching you, Adept.” He crested as he slurred the title. “All I need is proof, and my dear sister will never put her scrawny arse on the Throne.”

Scrawny? Hardly, she thought to herself. From the way he was cresting at her she almost gave some credence to the old story that the High House had intermarried with wolves at some point. He was certainly acting predatory.

He smiled, and it was a nasty smile. “And . . . with that proof, there’ll be one less magic-mongering whore – “

That did it.

She glanced up and down the hallway.

Good, there was no one there.

Halvrika matched his smile. “Your Highness?”

“What?” he sneered.

“Why do you keep hitting yourself?”

“What?” He drew back, and her eyes misted silver.

In the Writ, it was easy; select the proper strands and pull.

Meki started back as his right paw jerked back from the wall, clenched into a fist, and struck him in the cheek. He yelped, “What!?”

His fist hit him again. And again, before his left fist joined in.

His left fist struck him in the eye, and he lost his balance, falling on his tail with a clatter. Meki looked up at the raccoon and started to say something, only to catch his right fist striking him across the muzzle.

The silver glow left Halvrika’s eyes, and as she looked down at the buck she immediately regretted losing her temper. With a sudden gasped intake of breath, she ran from the corridor, leaving Prince Meki with a bit of blood oozing from his mouth and his left eye starting to swell up, gaping after her openmouthed in shock.

Just before reaching the park that held the Cloister she ducked into an alley and finally let the tears she’d been holding back come. She felt guilty for having used her ability to strike the Prince.

And she felt almost nauseous at the realization that she’d enjoyed giving him a bit of a comeuppance.

Following hard on the heels of that realization was a memory, and a thought . . .

It was the only time she could recall seeing the badger smiling, a tight, mirthless expression as he looked down at her following his win in a combat match . . .

The thought that Amb had enjoyed beating her, and that she’d enjoyed manipulating Meki – that was what made the young raccoon double over and vomit. She clutched at her stomach until she had emptied herself, then used a corner of her cloak to dry her eyes and wipe her mouth.

Stumbling a bit, she resumed her walk to her rooms to gather her things.

Trasta noted that her friend appeared withdrawn and subdued as they rode out with the Princess’ household guard to join the assembled troops outside the city. Halvrika wasn’t a very good rider, and so rode in a wagon with the doe’s squires.

Halvrika had her hood pulled down practically over her muzzle and was still brooding over her encounter with Meki. How could she have gotten so angry at him?

It was her heart that answered her: Because you love her, and you struck back at him to protect her, with no thought for the consequences.

It wasn’t an answer she was comfortable with. Her actions were out of Balance, and she knew that she had to make amends at some time in order to compensate. But that was a matter for the future; now she opened her Sight and eased herself into the flow of power emanating from the Masters.

The tight hold they had on Amb resembled not so much a cable of disparate strands as a swiftly-running river. The outward flow was matched by an equally strong stream returning, giving the Masters the ability to gauge the badger’s resistance or any moves he might make to counter or dispel the trap-ward. So far, he had done nothing.

And yes, that was a bit worrying. The Amb Tokarv she had worked and trained with – and yes, slept with – never did ‘nothing.’

“You’re cute.”

The words caused her to come out of her musings. “What?”

It was Chelli, one of Trasta’s squires. Seni was up front, driving the wagon. “I said, you’re cute.” The tabby winked at her as he rather shyly slipped his paw onto her knee.

Halvrika arched a brow even as her banded tail swept his paw away from her leg. “And you’re quite handsome. You will make some girl a fine husband.” She raised a finger. “But I am busy, and will not dally with one of the Princess’ squires.”

The feline gave a leer. “There are two of us, and one of you,” he said in what he supposed was a threatening tone, and she suppressed a sigh.

She reached out and grasped his wrist. “I don’t have time for you, and if either of you persist, I’ll tell your mistress what you’re up to. Younger sons of noble families shouldn’t act the way you’re acting.” She released him. “I should know.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She drew her hood back. “I’m the daughter of Thegn Ber Hringurhali.”

“A thegn’s daughter? What in Dator’s Underworld is a thegn’s daughter doing in the Order?” Seni asked. So, he’d been listening in.

“I had an aptitude for magic, and my parents arranged things with the Order,” she replied.

Chelli’s eyes narrowed. “I heard that girls in the Order are, well, real goers.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I read it,” Seni said.

“Priest Gond’s works?” the raccoon sow asked. Seni glanced back at her, and nodded.

That fox was getting tiresome. As she thought, a sly smile flitted across her muzzle, hidden from the two squires by her hood. “After dinner tonight, I shall show you.”

The two boys’ faces lit up. Apparently serving-women and whores were no longer to their taste, and they felt ready to aim higher.

The army stopped for the night, and Halvrika sought out Trasta. A hurried exchange of whispers, and the elk doe sent her away as she laughed.

Dinner that night was camp fare, supplemented as a concession for Trasta’s rank with wine. At one point, Halvrika slipped out of the tent and walked toward a nearby clump of trees. The Princess’ squires found some excuse or other to bow their way out of their mistress’ presence, and Trasta managed to keep herself from laughing as she dismissed them.

Several minutes Trasta saw two felines stumble back to their tent, and by straining her ears she could catch bits of their conversation.

“ . . . she’s unnatural . . . “ Chelli kept muttering.

“How? She’s hung like a horse,” Seni said, a shocked look on his face.

Trasta withdrew into the tent and laughed. When she finally got her breath back, she turned to see Halvrika standing behind her with a grin on her face. “I guess they’ve never heard of a glamor,” she giggled.

“What did you do?”

The raccoon laughed again. “I cast the glamor as I dropped my trousers, and it appeared to them that I had a penis.” They both laughed, and Halvrika added, “I think I made them feel inadequate.”

Trasta asked, “How big were you?”

“About down to here,” and the sow pointed to a spot below her right knee, causing Trasta to laugh again. Pouring cups of wine for them both, Halvrika offered the doe one and sipped. “I . . . also have an admission to make, Your Highness.”

Her sudden shift in tone made Trasta frown. “What?”

She took another swallow of wine before telling her. When she was finished she said, “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but he had me cornered and – Trasta?” Halvrika blinked as the doe dropped her wine cup.

Trasta had crammed two knuckles into her mouth and was practically doubled over, shaking with laughter. “Why are you laughing? I didn’t mean to,” Halvrika pleaded.

“’Rika,” she gasped out, still laughing, “P-promise me something.”

“What, Your Highness?”

“N-Next time, m-make sure I’m watching.”